


Beautiful Mirage

by SailorStarDust1



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Bittersweet, Community: galentinesday, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Galentines Week 2017, Parasites, Prompt Fic, Skull Face is a Demon, Vague VQuiet and VKaz, metaphysical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 01:29:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9634694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailorStarDust1/pseuds/SailorStarDust1
Summary: Galentine's Week Day 2 (February 9th), Prompt 2: A Ghost in the RoomThe "humming butterflies" meet at Diamond Dogs.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FelipeCH98](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FelipeCH98/gifts).



> Title is partially taken from one of the two MGSV OST tracks related to the Paz side story. 
> 
> Happy (early) Valentine's Day~

Limbs stretched above her head as sunlight filtered through her prison within Mother Base—in truth, it was to protect the Diamond Dogs staff frightened of her—Quiet blew a strand of hair away from her face. Despite the bouncy, loud, sounds of _Take on Me_ filling the Medical Platform from her small radio, the sniper in her mid-twenties was honestly...bored. Music alone wasn't enough to keep her desire for action of _any_ kind at bay, while laying flat-backed on her meager cot to stare at blue sky and fluffy clouds overhead.

Peaceful, certainly. But...

Despite the beginnings of camaraderie—was it gradual, genuine, trust...?—between herself and Big Boss, today the man code-named Venom Snake deployed with DD in the Afghanistan fields. Whether it was personal reservations about bringing her along on missions, or Miller's objections, the sniper couldn't tell for certain—and honestly, found it hard to care. Let these men and women enjoy their war games against XOF, and learn firsthand just what they were up against.

Like _that man's_ cruel orders for herself. Her own nimble fingers lightly brushing across her throat, a bitter smile played across her lips. It wouldn't be terribly surprising if that organization of his former superior found the means to utilize Parasites in the future, different from Skull Face's intent.

Bitterness giving way to a frown, Quiet shut her eyes before phasing out and easily jumping onto the grating above, body still cloaked, given her abilities. Dull interest flickered in her hidden greens upon the day's sleepy Diamond Dog soldier, less than a foot away, ordered to guard her cell.

Sensitive vision and hearing being what it was, the brunette eyed a lit door, about the third floor of the medical platform. Was there a patient nearby? Potential danger not being anywhere near a concern for her, curiosity quickly won out.

A brisk run and a couple of jumps later, Quiet quickly found herself face-to-face with the door. Uncloaking as she didn't sense any guards around, she was intrigued to note her eyes weren't deceiving her: Blue for occupied.

“Hm...?”

Treading carefully into the automatic door, she didn't pay any mind to the slight mist and gathering dust motes from the almost blindingly bright small hallway, various under construction signs decorating the walls. Occasional, happy, hums floated through the air as the door leading into the patient's room slid open with a _hiss_.

A petite blonde woman with striking curls—seemingly around her mid-thirties, given the traces of fatigue to her face, in a light blue tube top and shorts, and an ugly V-shaped scar across her side—quickly looked up from some kind of history textbook spread across her lap. She didn't pay any mind to a handful of photos from the Caribbean plastered against an adjacent wall.

"Oh, Sna—You...are not Snake."

The blonde had blinked twice, confusion in her eyes, before she set her book down, baby blues glittering in excitement. "You're another member of Mother Base, yes? Come and sit, sit!"

Something like that. Quiet offered a nod—honestly uncertain of how else to react—slowly finding herself taking a seat in the visitor's chair next to the slightly older woman's bed. She offered—forced, it felt like—a warm smile, due to the other woman's friendly nature.

"My name is Paz.", she cheerfully began, "It's wonderful to meet another MSF friend!"

Quiet's brows furrowed. According to the Intel that Skull Face once upon a time had given her, MSF was the old Mother Base from many years ago. Some kind of amnesia, it would seem? Still, Quiet wasn't in a position to dismiss this point, merely replying with an "Mh" as she reclined in her offered seat.

"Is Snake out on a mission? Miller must be working very hard to assist him!"

"Mhm." Quiet would rather not dwell on whatever kind of relationship Snake and Miller had—constantly noticing despite her vague pangs of _something_ within——just how close they'd lean into one another whenever debating important matters. The warm glances Snake and herself would exchange as their eyes met...What did it honestly matter, given her main objective at Diamond Dogs?

"Oh..." The excitable woman—finally—had relaxed, reaching for something on her bed. A spare blanket which she all too abruptly shoved into the sniper's hands. "Your outfit...The Caribbean may be hot, but certainly you must be chilly, no? Please, take it."

Quiet's lips twitched into a genuine smile as she softly shook her head, gently declining the kind act. Her hands lightly rest atop the other woman's without hesitation. A silent thank you.

"You're unable to speak? Please don't worry. Mother Base is very accepting of everyone, an ideal place for soldiers. Although,", she began to chuckle, her cheeks rosy at a newfound, happy, thought: "I am quite excited for Peace Day. Miller's rather smooth on his guitar when he's not singing, you know."

Quiet couldn't help but giggle at the mental image of a younger, healthier—dare she assume, _happier_?—Miller belting out various hit tunes of the '70's, much to the cringing annoyance of other staff, Big Boss included.

This Paz woman certainly lived up to her namesake, it seemed. Just being in her presence for the past few minutes, Quiet noticed herself visibly relax, so far that a lazy smile managed to reach her face.

“You reek of Skull Face.”

The peace was not to last; easy-going nature of their light conversation reaching a screeching halt. Not even her frequent “disappearing acts” would grant Quiet the freedom of escaping those suddenly piercing, accusatory, blues.

Her most immediate question was _what_ was this damaged woman's connection to him, butterfly mark splotches almost immediately manifesting around Quiet's quickly narrowing eyes in silent retaliation. Ready to defend herself against this sudden, potential, rather personal threat.

"My head! It...hurts..."

Whimpers and clutches of her forehead as her textbook clattered onto the tiled floor, then, were certainly the last things Quiet expected from Paz. Concern despite herself as the markings quickly faded, a friendly hand rest against the small of the blonde's back.

"I—I'm alright.", she had meekly offered, her tanned skin coated in light sweat, until...blue slowly locked with green.

In an almost motherly fashion—how odd, despite their slight difference in age—Quiet had pulled the blonde woman into a hug, reassuring circles rubbed against the small of that slightly trembling back. Memories of her childhood, memories which Skull Face could never take away, had surfaced upon recalling a song from her early teens. A hit song from '73 entitled _Sing_.

Out of politeness, Quiet ignored those silent sobs and shaking shoulders, while avoiding her natural element of silence by continuing to fill the room with gentle—almost encouraging—humming.

That untold sadness and anger Paz began to emotionally unload was all too familiar, too personal, to _not_ offer some measure of reassurance, some act of kindness, no matter how small.

“I am alright.”, Paz had repeated, smiling despite watery eyes. The reformed Cipher agent was bold enough to press her lips against the former XOF assassin's surprisingly soft cheek. Her own slender arms wrapped around the still-humming Quiet's shoulders, despite her trembling voice: “I'm alright.” More self-reassurance.

“...Thank you.” How could a person's voice sound so meek yet firm in their resolve, all at once?

Recognizing the tune Quiet hummed, lightly resting her temple against the female sniper's shoulder, Paz slowly joined along with closed eyes. Neither eager to raise the volume of their voices, instead, opting to resume their relaxed connection from earlier.

Little by little, their mutual suffering at the hands of Skull Face, was forgotten. If only for the moment, their mutual understanding was to be their savior.

_Just sing...Sing a song..._

Quiet began to sleepily drift off against Paz's warmth, away in dreamy bliss. This quiet moment of peace almost overwhelming within both their hearts.

Eyes fluttering open a mere moment later, her vision focused on a blue Morpho butterfly taking a rest atop her knuckles, her hand resting against her side. All while she stood above a portion of the platform still under construction, twilight and the first twinkling stars of the night a soothing backdrop.

“...Huh?”

As the butterfly took her leave, gravitating towards that sparkling horizon, Quiet's hand reached out to grab—rather, only to be met with—thin air.

_Sing of love that could be...Sing, for you and for me..._

The sound of a nearby helicopter descending at Mother Base broke Quiet from her transfixed gaze. She found herself smiling, despite this unrealized loss in a woman she never knew. A message of hope, from beyond the other side.

Dematerializing as she gracefully touched down on the Medical Platform's first deck, Quiet decided to make her first—in truth, rather revised—move during this stay at Diamond Dogs. She would silently greet DD, callsign Pequod, and the Boss...All with an honest smile on her face.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested sequel fic for FelipeCH98:
> 
> Wandering through the deserts alone, Quiet reflects on Venom Snake, and Paz.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keeping in mind Kojima's implications that Quiet lives (her MIA status in-game, Kojima having had to affirm this due to the MGSV novel explicitly killing her off), here's a little something I came up with as a requested fic.
> 
> Please enjoy!

She had borrowed _his_ Walkman, a used cassette tape hanging precariously against some tree branches that he would certainly notice...If he had hoped to search for her throughout the vast deserts.

Expressing her feelings towards him...It was the least she could do, at the end of everything.

With a heavy heart, equally heavy footsteps weighed down her lead-like boots across the sands.

Parasites within her throat burning, as if ablaze, her chest was tight. Water was what she so desperately required, the sunlight currently plentiful.

Saving him...It was the least she could do. For the kindness, the...love...he had quietly shown her, while the rest of Diamond Dogs either regarded Quiet as an annoyance at best, and complete freak at worst.

Her final unselfish act, to protect him, to thank him. A pity that things had to end like this between them.

With weak eyes, her shaky footing lost whatever meager balance it had against the sands. She slumped forward, too startled for a grunt to rise in the back of her ever constricting throat.

In her field of vision, blue. Her watery green eyes focused mere inches ahead. A morpho butterfly? Certainly she must be seeing things, hot grains of sand stinging her uncomfortably warm face once the breeze picked up…

The butterfly flapped its wings, heading for the clear blue, cloudless, sky. Seemingly towards that sweltering, mockingly oppressive, sun.

With an outstretched trembling hand, her fingerless glove extended, fingers curling, a desperate need for comfort from the peaceful creature, which overwhelmed her very core.

A soft hand took hers, the butterfly gone.

 _Her_ gentle eyes met Quiet’s, soft voice kind.

“You are alright.”

The wind played with Paz’s blonde curls. She wore a simple white dress, which lightly blew around her knees. She was healthy. Cheerful. Not a physical scar or internal agony about her.

“You're alright.” She had reaffirmed, as her reassuring hand tightened.

Quiet’s own smile was warm despite her eyes growing heavy, her chest and throat spasming from white heat.

Such impatient children within.

Her hand stubbornly refused to slip away from Paz’s. The former sniper was unafraid, her smile unfading, peacefully overtaken by darkness.


End file.
